


Aimé

by FuntasticFrost



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Caretaking, Chloé Bourgeois Being Chloé Bourgeois, Disabled Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Hair Brushing, Lesbian Chloé Bourgeois, Paralysis, Physical Disability, Quadripelgic, Wheelchairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23954455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuntasticFrost/pseuds/FuntasticFrost
Summary: An accident leaves Chloé paralyzed from the shoulders down. Luckily, she has Marinette to support her.
Relationships: Chloé Bourgeois/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89





	Aimé

**Author's Note:**

> Set in an AU where Chloé has never been given the bee miraculous. She and Marinette have been dating for a while now, but Chloé doesn't know that Marinette is Ladybug. Written for a commission. Enjoy!

Chloé Bourgeois’s morning is not going according to plan. She was supposed to be ready an hour ago, but, thanks to the lousy nurses Daddy hired to take care of her, breakfast took _much_ too long, and now she’s _way_ behind schedule. No amount of threatening their jobs will make her keepers more efficient—they’ve grown accustomed to her complaining over the past couple months. She tries to get them fired all the time for their incompetence, but whenever she voices her dissatisfaction, Jean Luc _insists_ they’re the most ‘qualified’ experts, the _best_ France has to offer.

Speaking of Jean-Louis, the butler enters her room after a round of sharp knocks. “Mademoiselle, your guest has arrived.”

Chloé’s heart spikes at the news for several reasons: (one) she is, of course, absolutely _thrilled_ to see Marinette, (two) she is _nowhere_ near ready for their date, and (three) this will be their first time going out since her accident.

“Tell her she has to wait a minute. I'm not presentable yet,” Chloé replies, shooting her nurse a dark look as the woman pulls her left arm through the sleeve of her daffodil-colored blouse. If Chloé could dress herself, preparing for their date would be easy—she takes after her fashionista mother, after all—but ever since that fateful day at the lake, she’s been paralyzed from the shoulders down.

Chloé thinks about the accident more than she likes to admit. She’d taken her friends—Marinette, Adrien, and Sabrina—to her Daddy’s private lake for the weekend. It was a splendid time, the best way to spend the start of their summer holiday, and Chloé had looked absolutely _stunning_ in the sleek black bikini Marinette designed for her. It was all fun and games until Chloé decided she wanted to show off a bit (impressing Marinette is one of her favorite pastimes) by diving off the dock. She executed a perfect swan-dive, slipping into the water with all the grace of an Olympian… and then promptly smashed headfirst into a submerged log.

Chloé remembers the moment in flashes: the pain and surprise of the blow, the struggle to hold her breath, to swim, to do _anything_. A shape torpedoing toward her in the darkness: Marinette. Her girlfriend’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her to the surface. Gulping down air, completely limp in Marinette’s arms. Lying on the sandy shore, frozen and panting. “I can’t move. Mari, I can’t _move.”_

The ambulance, the hospital, and... well, the rest is less glamorous. 

They told her she broke her neck and that they couldn't fix it. A “C4/5 complete spinal cord injury,” they said. “You’ll likely never move your arms again, nevermind walk,” they said. She can’t feel anything below her collarbone, and months of grueling physical therapy with Paris’s finest has done little to improve her mobility. As far as anyone can tell, she’s going to have to spend the rest of her life reliant on others. She can only do a couple tasks on her own: lift her shoulders a couple centimeters, bark orders, and blow through a straw to make her wheelchair move (she hasn’t quite mastered that trick yet, though, so Jean-Jacques usually pushes her around). She has to depend on her new nurses, her butler, and her father for _everything_. She can’t even change her own underwear.

Hence, the slow morning.

Jean Paul bows before exiting the room, presumably to go tell Marinette that Chloé isn’t ready to be seen. Sighing impatiently, she glares into the vanity mirror across from where she’s seated, unsatisfied by her reflection. She’s dressed in a chic little number, but her hair isn’t done and her face is bare. She simply _cannot_ see Marinette like this! If her girlfriend sees her in such a pitiful state, she might think she’s let her new condition get the best of her. Chloé is accustomed to being the prettiest girl in the room, and she isn’t about to let any obstacle, no matter how inconvenient or… _permanent_ , lower her beauty standards.

“Can’t you hurry up?” Chloé snaps at the nearest nurse, the one currently trying to untangle the unsightly knots in her long blonde hair. “I have places to be, you know, and I’m already late.”

There’s a polite knock at her bedroom door, and Chloé rolls her eyes. “Jean Claude, I already told you, I’m not—!”

Her hollering dies down when her butler enters, closely followed by Marinette. Her girlfriend looks simply adorable. Her dark hair is tied back in her signature pigtails, and she’s donning a blush pink summer dress, the quality indicating that it is clearly of her own design. She’s wearing the checkered Louis Vuitton sneakers Chloé gifted her several months ago, and she’s pleased to see they’re still in near-mint condition. All in all, Marinette looks rather well put-together for someone so clumsy, but, then again, she is the best teenage fashion designer in Paris.

Jean Baptiste clears his throat. “Mademoiselle said she could not wait to see you.”

“Chloé!” Marinette squeals in that enthusiastic way of hers, bounding across the room with a bright smile. “I’ve missed you so much! The bakery has been _so_ busy this past week. How’ve you been?”

Chloé shrugs as best she can. “Oh, you know, the usual. Online shopping, Skyping with Sabrina—and you, of course, but you already knew that.” She feels a bit out of place all of a sudden. Her days were once filled with trips to the mall, the beach, and celebrity events… but now? Now, she stays in her room and spends most of her time following the Ladyblog, mindlessly scrolling through social media with an eye-tracking program. Nothing as exciting as whatever Marinette has been up to.

“Ooh, is this new?” Marinette asks, thumbing the sleeve of Chloé’s blouse. “I love it. You look great!”

Chloé scoffs. “Oh, please, don’t kid yourself. I look ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous!”

Marinette’s cheery smile dampens a bit. “What do you mean?”

Chloé looks at her with a serious expression. “Marinette. _Look_ at my _hair!_ My _face!_ I can’t go out looking like _this!”_

Marinette releases her breath, and she giggles. “Chloé, you look fine! You’re _always_ pretty, but... we don’t have to leave right away. Take as much time as you need.”

Chloé glances at the caretaker beside her. The woman hasn’t said a word all morning, seemingly entirely focused on her task. “You don’t want to just sit here and watch me get ready. That’s so boring.”

“I don’t mind! I could even help, if you wanted?” Marinette offers.

Chloé hums, considering, and then concedes: “Alright, just to give you something to do.” She raises her voice, looking around the room at her servants. If she could clap to dismiss them, she would. “Leave us!”

“You heard Mademoiselle Chloé!” Jean Luc says, ushering her caretakers out of the room and closing the door behind them.

Once alone, Marinette shoots her a knowing, teasing look. “You like having more people to boss around, don’t you?”

Chloé smirks. “Of course. I’m great at giving orders.”

“Oh, I know you are.” Marinette rolls her eyes and laughs, grabbing the brush off the vanity table. The rose gold handle looks much better in her hands than those of her impassive nurses. Marinette stands behind her wheelchair and runs the comb slowly through her hair from top to bottom, the points gently scratching her scalp. Most of Chloé’s body is completely numb now, so she welcomes the pleasant sensations.

“Your hair is so soft,” Marinette marvels, threading several locks through her dainty fingers.

Chloé preens, smug as ever. “I know. It’s the conditioner I had Daddy buy me. I’ll order you some.”

Marinette parts her hair down the middle. “You don’t have to.”

“I _want_ to,” Chloé insists sincerely. She can’t do much anymore, it feels like, but she _can_ shower her lovely girlfriend with expensive gifts. It's the _least_ Marinette deserves.

“Oh, alright. It _would_ be nice to have hair as smooth as yours.” Marinette grabs an elastic band from the vanity. “High ponytail?”

Chloé nods, and Marinette ties back her hair. A few loose strands fall free, and her girlfriend tucks them behind her ear. “There. Hair’s done!”

They move on to makeup. Chloé doesn’t need foundation on account of her flawless skin, but she ensures Marinette piles on the mascara. Her lashes have a reputation for being absolutely killer, and Chloé does not intend to disappoint. She relays instructions with much more kindness than she would her father’s employees, frequently complimenting her girlfriend’s technique. She finds it quite nice to have Marinette so close, her hands constantly hovering over her skin. She only wishes she could return the favor.

Marinette completes the finishing touches, and then stands behind her, placing her hands on her shoulders. Her glowing smile warms Chloé’s heart.

“I think I did a pretty good job,” Marinette says proudly. 

“Of course you did. I never expected any less,” Chloé replies, examining their reflections in the mirror. 

“You ready to go?” Marinette asks, her question devoid of pressure or expectation. Still, Chloé swallows. She’s left the house plenty of times since the accident, and the paparazzi have already moved on from the Mayor’s newly disabled daughter, but… Chloé doesn’t want to be a spectacle. She adores attention—demands it, even—but she doesn’t appreciate strangers gawking at her for the wrong reasons.

Marinette must sense her hesitation because she rubs her back soothingly—the small patch just above her shoulder blades where she can still feel the reassuring contact. “We don’t have to go out today, if you’d prefer.”

Chloé takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “Are you kidding me? I haven’t left this shabby hotel in _days_. We’re going out.”

Her girlfriend smiles, apparently charmed by her confidence. “Want me to push you?”

“As if I’m going to let people see me blow into this straw… thing.” Chloé flips her hair to accentuate her disdain. In truth, she isn’t very good at driving herself around yet, so she would rather wait until she’s gotten the hang of it before using it in public.

“Okay.” Marinette puts on Chloé’s Ray-Bans for her, and then, with a cheery smile, wheels her out of her bedroom toward the elevators. “Let’s go!”

* * *

Paris in August is usually sweltering hot, but the shade from the thick foliage above and the refreshing breeze both ease the temperature into something tolerable. The city is typically packed with tourists this time of year, and although Chloé is certain they’re crawling all over Paris like roaches, the park where they’ve chosen to spend the afternoon is blessedly quiet. The benefits of being a local and knowing the right places, she supposes.

The paths are paved, thankfully, so her wheelchair glides smoothly along, past marble fountains and well-kept flowerbeds. The wind blows mist in their direction, and they both sigh in relief. All the different shades of lilies smell equally as wonderful, sweet like honey. The roof of her Daddy’s hotel has bushes to obscure the view of the pool from other rooftops, but it’s nothing compared to the intricate maze of colorful life Marinette has brought her too.

“Alya helped me pick this place. We tried to find somewhere where other people wouldn’t be around to bother us. I swear, that girl can find anything on her phone,” Marinette says.

Chloé turns her head as much as she can, trying to see her girlfriend behind her. “You made a good choice.”

Marinette beams, her eyes squinting shut in the sun. “Thanks! I wanted today to be perfect.”

Chloé barely keeps herself from saying that every day they spend together is perfect. It’s true, but she doesn’t want Marinette to think she’s _cheesy_.

They turn a corner, and a picnic table comes into view. The ground around the bench is paved, and it’s connected to the path, so Marinette easily pushes her right up to the head of the table.

Chloé arches an eyebrow. “Do you have something in mind, baker’s girl?”

Her girlfriend giggles. “You know me! I love surprises!”

The sunlight catches in Marinette’s hair, and her pigtails shine. She’s beautiful. Chloé wishes she could just reach over and kiss her. She wishes she could leap from this chair, wrap her arms around her in a tight embrace, and kiss her for hours.

“Ta da!” Marinette announces with a flourish, producing a tupperware container out of her purse. Chloé squints, trying to determine what treats lie inside. She detects milk chocolate and bursts of green. Noticing her confusion, Marinette clarifies, “I made you chocolate-covered strawberries!”

Chloé blushes. Her girlfriend’s handmade gifts always strike a special chord within her. She’s so accustomed to expensive presents from her father that the tender care Marinette puts into her thoughtful gestures feels like… well, to put it simply, nothing else can compare.

“Oh, Mari-kins!” Chloé squeals. Her pretense of being suave and cool is completely blown away. “For me?! You’re so sweet!”

Marinette’s cheeks flush pink. “I hope you like them.” She sits down on the bench adjacent to her chair and pops open the lid. “They’ve melted a bit… good thing I brought napkins!”

“Don’t worry about that,” Chloé says quickly. She has a tendency to be particular about cleanliness, but she wouldn’t dare let her wealthy upbringing spoil their fun. “You’re the best girlfriend _ever,_ Mari-kins!”

She ducks her head as if overwhelmed by the praise. “Like I said, I wanted today to be special.”

Chloé would do anything to be able to lean over and give her a peck on the cheek. She succumbs to her dramatic nature and says sincerely, “Every day with you is special, Marinette.”

She looks up quickly, bluebell eyes wide, the cutest smile curling her lips. “You too, Chloé. Love you.”

“Love you,” she returns, glancing briefly at the tupperware between them. The smell of chocolate wafts through the air. As much as she treasures the gesture, Chloé can’t eat on her own. It’s humiliating enough to be spoon fed by nurses, but her girlfriend?

Marinette picks up one of the strawberries with two delicate fingers. “I taste tested them already. You want one?”

Chloé hesitates. A beat passes.

Marinette takes a bite. Her countenance is thoughtful as she chews and swallows, giving them both time. “I chose chocolate strawberries because they’re _supposed_ to be fed to your lover. I was hoping it would help you adjust, feel less awkward about the whole thing.” There’s an unspoken question at the end of her sentence, as if she’s gauging her comfort level.

Chloé can’t meet her eyes. “... but what about _you?_ I can’t feed _you_ strawberries.”

Her girlfriend’s hand lands on her shoulder. She squeezes lightly. “I love you the way you are, however you are, no matter what you can or can’t do. You are more than enough.”

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she wishes she could brush them away. She blinks repeatedly to banish them. “... thank you. I’d like to try one, if you don’t mind.”

A gentle finger tips her chin up. She looks into Marinette’s eyes. She looks so _proud._ “Well, I made them with you in mind. I really hope you like them!”

Chloé, feeling much more confident about the whole thing, cranes her neck forward a couple centimeters and takes a bite before her girlfriend can say anything. Marinette giggles. “Don’t bite my fingers off!”

“No promises,” she teases, licking her lips. Her girlfriend ventures closer, pushing the remainder of the treat into her mouth. “This tastes amazing, by the way.”

“Thanks!” Marinette grins and eats a strawberry of her own. “My mom helped me.”

Briefly, Chloé thinks of her own mother. She hadn’t seen her since before the accident. She apparently didn’t think her daughter becoming quadriplegic warranted returning to Paris. Chloé shakes her head. There’s no use in thinking of that right now, not when she has her lovely girlfriend beside her to keep her company.

“Maybe next time you could bring some of your parents’ famous macaroons,” she suggests. Marinette’s eyes light up.

“Sure! Anything for you, Chloé. I’m always looking for an excuse for them to make me macaroons.”

They eat in companionable silence for the remainder of their little afternoon snack, splitting the portion evenly between them. Chloé occasionally moans in pleasure from how delicious the desserts are—she’s accustomed to being over-the-top about the finer things in life. Marinette’s fingers end up covered in chocolate by the time they’re finished, and she licks them clean. Chloé watches her lips move, enraptured. Her girlfriend catches her looking and smirks.

“You’ve got some chocolate on your face. Here, let me.”

Marinette closes the distance between them, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth. Chloé flushes hotly and turns her head, stealing a second kiss from her girlfriend, this one longer and more passionate. Marinette’s lips are soft and taste like chocolate. Her girlfriend’s fingers rest on the back of her neck, and she scoots closer. They kiss for a long while in the shade of the park, licking the sugar from each others’ mouths. In moments like these, Chloé can’t help but drown in love she feels for the girl beside her. She knows she’s the luckiest girl in Paris to have Marinette. 

Eventually, they break away, both blushing and a bit disheveled. They look at each other’s dreamy expressions and laugh. 

“I’ve been waiting to do that all week,” Marinette admits.

“Me too.”

Marinette seals her tupperware and stuffs it back into her purse. “I can’t wait for school to start back up again so we can see each other every day.”

“Yeah.”

Her girlfriend caresses her cheek. “Are you nervous?”

Chloé shrugs. Her classmates all have already shown their endless support and acceptance, despite the cruel way she’s treated them for years. She dreads the pity she’ll no doubt receive, but she knows she’ll have Marinette, Adrien, and Sabrina to help her adjust. “A little. I’ll have you with me, though, so I know it’ll be okay.”

Marinette’s smile softens. “You’re so brave, Chloé. You’re so strong for not letting everything get you down.”

Her cheeks are pink. “Like I said, I have you.” They stare into each other’s eyes for a while. Good thing there aren’t any passersby to witness their blatant PDA. “Today has been great, Mari-kins. Thank you for everything.”

Her girlfriend kisses her on the cheek. “There are plenty more fantastic dates in our future.”

Chloé beams. “I can’t wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for the Miraculous Ladybug fandom, so I hope I got the characterizations right! I'm a shameless Chloé stan. Sue me.


End file.
